


you’ve been burning

by Hymn



Series: Hymn's Fic: The Mandalorian Collection [8]
Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: A/B/O, Alpha Cara, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Breeding Kink, Established Relationship, F/M, Heat Sex, Impregnation Kink, LMAO, Mando’a, Mates, NEW KINKS ADDED, Penetrative Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, as in din is in heat and thus acts differently than he would normally, bottom Din, correction: butchered mando’a, hover text, i thought i had a ton to add but honestly everything other than the impregnation thing is uh, just in case lol, let me know if i missed anything pls, lol, married, mention of birth control, mostly me testing out a/b/o ideas, not that big??, omega Din, under the influence sex, v mild dirty talk, v quick fic, world building, yea figured i'd mention it again
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-07
Updated: 2020-04-07
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:00:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23527297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hymn/pseuds/Hymn
Summary: His voice comes raspy over the coms: “Beskad.”Shit, Cara thinks, crouched behind a shipping crate. The durasteel gives her momentary cover from the blaster fire, but it won’t last. Neither will Din, it seems, and Cara’s going to chock that up to him finally giving in to her coaxing and actually building an akaat’yaim for his upcoming heat. They usually have more time than this.
Relationships: Cara Dune/The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)
Series: Hymn's Fic: The Mandalorian Collection [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1561399
Comments: 14
Kudos: 109





	you’ve been burning

**Author's Note:**

> No one is surprised by this, I’m sure lol. 1000% indulgent. Does it make sense that Din would start talking in mando’a during heat? Probably not! I have done it anyway lol. Apologies for shittiness, I wound up having to write most of this on my phone, as well as posting it. 
> 
> Inspired by Mandothon’s day 7 nsfw prompt: need
> 
>  **edit** TAGS HAVE BEEN UPDATED, the whole fic has been edited and added to, and for those of you on computers there is now hover text for the mando'a! unfortunately, those of you on mobile are gonna have to skip to end notes for translations still, a thousand pardons!

His voice comes raspy over the coms: “Beskad.”

 _Shit_ , Cara thinks, crouched behind a shipping crate. The durasteel gives her momentary cover from the blaster fire, but it won’t last. Neither will Din, it seems, and Cara’s going to chock that up to him finally giving in to her coaxing and actually building an akaat’yaim for his upcoming heat. They usually have more time than this.

“ _Beskad_ ,” he grates out again, sounding annoyed. 

“Yeah,” Cara grunts back. “I’m here, riduur. You okay?”

“What do _you_ think?”

Humming, Cara tracks the sound of boots scuttling across the hangar floor, then fires over the top of the crate without sighting. Her aim is still true enough. One of the bandits dies. “I’m guessing that’s rhetorical. Can you wait?”

He has to, of course, unless he wants some stranger mounting him. Cara’s skin pulls tight just at the thought, furious, and if she were a lesser alpha she’d give in to her own instincts: throw down her blaster and charge these bandits with a roar of territorial rage.

Luckily, she’s not a fucking _idiot_.

Luckier still, Din is the type of omega who’d kill her himself if she tried.

Din says, “‘Lek,” still with that strained edge to his voice. “Obviously. Al nu’ni briikase ti ibic!”

Cara has to snort a laugh, though it’s admittedly a bit delayed. She may be learning mando’a, but that doesn’t mean she’s fluent in it yet. And, when Din is this far down into heat instincts, being _unhappy_ isn’t usually what he’s whining about.

 _More_ and _harder_ and _please_ is likelier.

It twists her up inside, rage and a peculiar kind of grief, that these krelling assholes have fucked their plans so perfectly. There’s no telling how long it’ll take to convince Din to give in to his nesting instincts again. But she also knows better than to show her rage and irritation, lest her omega get the wrong idea about _why_ she’s so pissed off. 

So she just says, “Copy that, Djarin. Hang in there,” with the tiniest amount of alpha in her voice.

Din makes a frustrated noise. “Fuck _you_ , beskad.”

Over the shipping crate, Cara fires again. Misses. Has to duck and roll a bit awkwardly over to new cover, as one of the bandits gets brave enough to come around the corner, laying out fire. 

Over the rapid retort, Cara promises, “Soon enough, dalab.”

\--

Soon enough isn’t really soon enough, if the way Din’s panting is any indication. Still, within seventeen minutes the two of them have dropped every one of their foes. “Almost feel bad for them,” Cara says over the coms, running a check on the ship’s system to make certain it’s not picking up any other life forms. Only hers and Din’s show up, thankfully. 

Din says nothing, breath coming short and rough and aching.

“No, seriously,” Cara says, mostly for something to say. Alderaan had a very different approach to alpha-omega pairings than the Mandalorian do, but Cara’s learned how to straddle the line between cultures. Din doesn’t want coddling, even if his biology needs to know his alpha is with him, so she talks about nothing at all: “How unlucky did they have to be to pick _this_ moon, let alone _this_ exact spot? They only needed to do some maintenance. I bet—”

“Beskad,” Din mutters. “Ni cuy’hettyc.”

Cara winces, picking up her already hurried pace. “I know, I know. I’m almost—here, I’m here!”

Here is a little room, half the size of the akaat’yaim Din spent the last few days perfecting. It’s absolute shit in comparison, but it’s going to have to do, because Din’s already out of most of his armor. Cara can smell the way he’s leaking through his bodysuit, omega-sweet and ripe. She gets hard so fast it feels almost like pain, her body flinching with the impact of arousal. 

“Hey,” she says, voice soft, because she has to be soft or she’ll be growling already, dizzy from his pheromones. 

Din gives her unimpressed look, even through the helmet. Then he takes the helmet off with clumsy hands, and the unimpressed look is still there, but so are Din’s flushed cheeks, his glassy eyes, and his already sweat-damp hair. He’s gorgeous, as always, and Cara shuts and locks the door, trapping his heat-scent inside. 

“You sure you can’t wait until we get back to your nest?” 

It really isn't far, but Din’s gone down so fast. Too fast, so Cara isn’t surprised when Din shakes his head, and then she has to take the helmet from him before he drops it, his knees wavering. “Gar klesi…” he breathes out, swaying toward her. 

She catches his weight with a grunt, shuffling his helmet to the crook of one arm. With the other, she wraps it tight around his back, fisting at the rough weave of his revealed bodysuit. Din plants his face into the crook of her neck, right up against her scent glands, and gives a ragged inhale.

“Good?” she asks.

“ _Jatne._ ”

“You sure know how to flatter an alpha, Din,” Cara drawls, smile wide and crookedly smug. It’s utterly impossible not to preen a little, Cara’s shoulders straightening with the urge to posture. “C’mon, first round we can make do in here, but as soon as we can, we’re getting back to your akaat’yaim.”

Din just huffs, leaning more of his weight into her. 

“I’m so serious, Djarin.” She has to brace her feet to hold him up, but she’s glad to; presses her cheek against his hair, breathing him in. “You worked way too hard on that thing.”

“Cui ogir’olar.”

“What?” Cara asks, because she doesn’t follow that phrase. But Din isn’t in a place to get his brain speaking Basic, and Cara can extrapolate: “Fuck whatever you just said, because I bet it’s untrue. You _deserve_ that nest, Din.”

“...Vor’e.”

Cara doesn’t fight the rumbling in her chest, approval in its most animalistic form letting Din know exactly how glad she is that he isn’t fighting her on this. Of course, that could just be because Din doesn’t care enough to keep arguing, but she can hardly blame him if that’s the case. He really _is_ burning up, all his skin fever-hot to the touch. 

So she doesn’t fight the alpha-purr, or the way she can’t stop herself from calling Din _dalab_ and _mesh’la_ and _cyar’ika_ in soft, murmuring tones, only fumbling the pronunciation a little as she carefully sets down his helmet and helps get the rest of his clothes off sensitive, flushed skin. He helps as best he can, which isn’t very. But it’s charming nonetheless, and Cara lets that alpha-purr keep right on going, pleased all over again at how sweet he’s being, pliant in his need.

“Ridurr,” Din moans, as she slides her hands down his naked body, palming his hips. “Gedet’ye, beskad.”

“I got you,” Cara soothes.

But the heat is riding him even harder now, and Din isn’t so easily soothed. He moans again, jerking fitfully against her, rubbing his body against hers and making distressed noises when its armor and not skin he’s rubbing against. He mouths at her neck, whining.

“Hang on,” Cara says, scrabbling at her fastenings.

“Gedet’ye!”

“Udesii,” Cara mutters, but the rumbling in her chest just gets louder, thick and possessive, a low but proper growl that she hopes Din can feel in his damned bones. She can’t help but love it when Din gets like this, bossy and desperate with need, and she wants him to know it—know exactly how hot it makes her.

“Liniba gar,” he protests.

Smug, he makes her feel so damned _smug_. “I know,” she murmurs, scrabbling faster. “I need you, too, dalab.”

Once she’s as naked as he is, Cara sits down on the edge of the narrow bunk and pulls Din down to straddle her lap. He’s slick already, of course, and hot and pulsing against her clit where he grinds down fitfully against her, and Cara’s just glad this heat didn’t coincide with one of her ruts, or they’d never make it off this damned cargo ship. 

“You smell amazing,” she whispers into Din’s damp skin, dragging her teeth along his collarbone. He jerks, and Cara gets her hands on his back to hold him close and steady, fingers spread wide and digging in. “You _feel_ amazing. Gonna ride me, dalab? Take what you need?”

“Elek,” Din whines, eyes squeezed shut, head thrown back. He’s all tense muscles, golden skin and scars, squirming on her lap. A vision, really. Cara’s teeth ache to _bite_. “Gedet’ye, beskad, k’iviin’yc.”

Cara’s been half-hard since the first hint of heat in Din’s scent that morning, a low simmering need that raced through her veins, heavy in her gut, hot in her chest. During the fight, the alpha in her hadn’t quite been able to shake off the knowledge that her mate needed her, ripe and ready and wanting, but still, she hadn’t had to worry about an erection impeding her movement, at least, instincts too focused on protection and defense, logical mind in control long enough to see them through to safety. 

But, as soon as she’d come into the room and gotten a nose full of heat-scent, Cara’s been hard enough to _ache_ with it. 

All of Din’s slurred mando’a hasn’t helped that any, or the restless way he moves, all that strength gone liquid and melting under Cara’s hands. It’s agony to take her clit, now, and hold it steady against Din’s wet entrance, to feel the way he wraps his arms around her neck, desperate and greedy, and let him sink down at his own pace.

“Ah,” he pants. “Ah, ah, _ah_.”

“Fuck,” Cara hisses. “You’re tight.”

He _is_ tight, tighter than he really should be. If this were a heat gone properly, Cara would’ve taken the time to eat him out until he was relaxed and open, ready for her. But this heat hasn’t gone at all to plan, and only necessity has them here like this, on a strange ship surrounded by dead bandits, Din forcing her clit inside his hungry body inch by slow inch.

“Easy,” Cara chokes out, rubbing her hands up and down his back, trying to soothe.

Din just grunts, rocking down a little harder.

And—fuck.

It feels so damned _good_ , all that heat and slickness throbbing tight around her. Feels like it takes every ounce of control she has, but Cara holds still, holds steady, and tries to keep enough sense to make certain Din doesn’t push it too far too fast. He doesn’t, thankfully, and by the time she’s fully seated inside him they’re both trembling, gasping for breath. That tiny room now _reeks_ with their pheromones, which just serves to make Cara feel even dizzier, her own instincts threatening to overwhelm. 

“You, uh. You good?”

“Ori,” Din whimpers, which—

Cara inhales sharply, because yeah, mando’a often has a few different things a given word might mean, but Cara knows what Din means by that one in this context: she feels _big_ inside him. 

Like she’d said before, Din sure knows how to flatter an alpha. 

Before she’s even aware of it, Cara’s careful control snaps and she’s _snarling_ , sliding one hand fast up Din’s spine to dig her nails hard into the nape of his neck, right over the mating bite. 

And, just like that, Din’s wailing and spasming around her, his first orgasm shaking brutally through him.

It makes Cara feel fucking feral, how easily he gave it up to her. “ _Mine_ ,” she growls, bucking up as best she can, bare heels sliding on the floor. Her nails dig in harder, Din’s walls convulse around her clit, and the need overtakes them, then, primal as it ever is, base and animalistic.

“Elek,” Din pants, grinding his hips down like he can’t bear to let even an inch of her clit leave him, needing to be full. 

Cara wants to pin him down on the bed and fuck him proper, but experience warns her against it. Din belongs to _her_ , which means she has to treat him right, give him just what he needs. So she stays as she is, bucking up jerkily and clutching him close, letting him keep her erection right where he wants it most, stuffing him full. “My strong omega,” Cara murmurs, biting haphazardly at whatever skin she can reach—Din’s chest, his arms, his flesh between her teeth like a vow, salty and hot. “My fierce dalab, so perfect, and all for me.”

The noise he makes then is brittle, cracking through. Cara rubs against him, getting her scent all over him while he keeps grinding down onto her clit, trying to get her knot to swell. Needing to be tied, pumped full of come. It’s all Din can ever think of when the heat first crests.

“I got you,” Cara tells him again, because she does. Even like this, buzzing with instinct and reaction, half-feral with it. She always has Din’s back, and always will. “Take what you need, exactly how you need, cyar’ika.”

“Ni shi’liniba gar,” he moans, leaning down to kiss her.

Cara groans back, kissing him sweet and hot and hungry, joy and pride vibrant in her chest, building hot at the base of her spine. She wishes she could grab at his hips and help force him down, but she can’t bring herself to leave her claim on him, and she’s afraid if she lets go of his back with her other that he’ll topple backward. But it’s fine, because Cara’s been turned on all _day_ , and there’s no alpha alive who wouldn’t pop a knot quick with their omega begging for it like this.

“Want my come in you, don’t you?” she draws back enough to ask, mostly because it gives Din a chance to answer her. He’s been taking advantage of their kisses as a way to muffle the sounds he’s making, she thinks. 

That won’t do. Cara doesn’t want Din quiet. She wants him loud and demanding, utterly shameless as he only is in heat. 

He bites at his lip, flushed ruddy all down his throat. “Ngh!” 

“Tell me,” Cara murmurs, setting her nails in more firmly. The nape of his neck, she knows, is already blooming with bruises, the blood drawn up by her mouth. She can’t help herself; smelling Din in estrus always makes her worry at the mating bite, eager to refresh the fading scars, so that by the time Din’s heat finally hits he’s already tender there. “Tell me what you want. Want my come? Want my pups in you?”

“ _Elek_ ,” he cries, twisting until he’s got his legs wrapped around her waist, ankles crooked. 

He’s holding onto her, all around her, everything she can smell and see and taste, and it’s the headiest fucking thing. Cara’s grinning, big and vicious and delighted, as Din shakes and clenches around her, milking her clit, massaging her knot. 

When she growls out, “K’sibuc bic, dalab,” it’s with alpha thick in her voice.

Din shudders, whimpering and slumping heavy against her, but still squirming restless in her lap. Shameless; gorgeous. More than enough to get her knot fattening up. His voice when he obeys is breathy, a rough and scratchy thing: “K’nariti ik'aad lo’ni,” he says. “Ni gedeti! Gedet'ye, beskad, k’dinui ade! Ni copaani, ni copaani—!”

“Gar lis’gana an,” Cara tells him, snarling as her knot swells to full size, pushing into him as deep as she can. 

He locks her tight with a keen. All the tension leaves him save where he’s clutched up tight around her, keeping her inside. Cara grunts, hips flexing, and can feel her orgasm building, so _close_ , utterly inevitable even as Din quiets, calms, settles against her. “Mar’e,” he sighs, nosing at her jaw, her scent glands, mouth dragging wet across her skin. “Jate beskad,” he calls her, words slurring, the heat all he can feel, the relief that he’s being bred, mated true and about to be full of her pups.

Which isn’t going to actually happen, of course. Like every Mandalorian omega, Din’s on some serious birth control. But during heat, it’s all he cares about—all he knows how to want, to need: Cara’s seed in him, breeding him, plugged full to make _certain_ he gets pregnant. 

Cara’s not ready to add another child to their clan, either, but she sure as fuck gets off to Din begging her for it.

“K’nariti ik'aad lo’ni,” he purrs, working her knot.

Groaning, Cara doesn’t try and fight her orgasm. Let’s Din take it from her. Grits her teeth and digs her heels into the floor, pressing Din down _hard_ while she pushes up, filling him with her throbbing clit and pulse after pulse of her come. It’s all golden fire and greed inside her, like Din’s touch has dragged her down with him—all she is is raging heat and need and pleasure, gasping as she comes, and it feels like forever, it feels like too much, never ending, like she’s going up in flames—

“Jate,” Din murmurs, low and sweet. 

His hands are cupping Cara’s face. She blinks, trying to focus, as her limbs stop shaking with orgasm and start shaking with exertion. She gasps, and Din’s thumbs stroke beneath her eyes, his forehead pressing firmly against her own.

Groaning, Cara presses back briefly before slumping back onto the bunk, nearly hitting her head against the wall. 

“This room is way too small.”

Din hums, though Cara doubts it’s with agreement. She’s never quite certain if he actually registers words that don’t have anything to do with mating when he’s like this, and by the end of the heat when Cara can ask him about it, he’s always admitted that he can’t remember, those first few waves of his heat a hectic, pleasurable blur.

More likely, he’s humming because he likes the new angle of her knot inside him. He didn’t follow her down, stayed upright and gorgeous on her lap, his little omega cock jutting up proudly from its thatch of dark curls.

“Look at _you_ ,” it’s Cara’s turn to hum. 

Din lowers his chin, looking up at her with dark eyes through a fan of darker lashes. “Tion tigaanu ni?”

“ _Yes_ , omega,” Cara says, and gets her hand on his cock. 

Din groans immediately, sinking back, head tilted to bare his throat so damned prettily. Cara can feel him squeezing around her, and it feels good—she likes it, could let Din clutch at her oversensitive clit and blown knot forever, especially if it makes him look this blissed out.

She adds some alpha to her voice when she says: “Play with your nipples, cyar’ika. You know I like to watch.”

With a greedy gasp, Din’s hands fly up to cup his pecs. There’s a soft field of sparse, curling dark hair down the center of his chest, which never fails to turn Cara on. She wants to bury her face there, but instead she grips Din’s thigh with her free hand and keeps rubbing his erection with the other, touch light and teasing. 

“Feel good?” she husks, still with a hint of alpha. “You’re all plugged up, full of my come. I’m playing with you _here_ ,” she says, squeezing gently at the plush head of Din’s cock, “and you’re—well, you’re not pinching your nipples, but you _should_ be, dalab.”

“Ah…” Din breathes, fingers moving across that gorgeous chest of his, to those pink and perky nipples just begging to be touched. “Gar serim, beskad.”

“Damn straight,” Cara grins, bucking up a little just to jostle her knot inside of him.

It _must_ feel good. Din’s in heat, so there’s no way he’s not flushed and ruddy and sweaty with it at all times. But as he straddles her lap, grinding down against her knot in luxurious circles, his cock throbbing hotly in Cara’s hand, and starts to roll and tweak his own nipples, thrusting his chest out with a guttural groan, that flush gets hotter, brighter, spreading down and down his sternum.

Cara watches closely. He’s too damned stunning to look away from. Not even a minute more and Din is coming again, a sharp cry quickly bitten back. 

Cara orders, “Don’t stop. Again, riduur. _Again_.”

He obeys with a whine, and Cara holds steady while his cock jerks within the cage of her fingers, his walls spasming around her clit, his body shaking and shaking and shaking. One orgasm rolls into another, and Cara tells him _again, keep going_ until he’s gasping, collapsing over her, too overcome to move. 

His nipples are all swollen, puffy and sensitive; his chest heaves, arms straining against the bunk as he tries to stay marginally upright. His cock is only half-hard, now, twitching with aftershocks, and his lashes look wet, expression ragged and raw. 

The alpha-purr comes back, and rightly so. 

Cara loops her arms around Din’s back, guides him so his face is pressed into her throat. “Ori’jate, dalab.”

Din shivers, shifting his legs to lay across her a little more easily. Cara kisses his temple, salty with sweat, and nearly bangs the top of her head against the wall when Din’s weight forces her farther up the bunk. “Way too fucking small,” she mutters.

Hopefully, all those orgasms and her knot have been enough to quell the first wave. When her knot softens and she slips out of him, they might have enough time to make it back to Din’s nest before the next spike.

They’d better, she thinks. Cara’s _determined_ to fuck Din until he’s wailing with it, but _only_ in his akaat’yaim, damn it all.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! (: 
> 
> i don't pretend to be a linguist so i butchered the fuck out of it every time i had to cobble together a phrase that didn't already exist lol. pls forgive me! in any case, if you have questions or wanna talk mando'a or wanna scream about anything feel free to send me an ask on my writing tumblr about it <3 you can find me at [thelionshymnal](https://thelionshymnal.tumblr.com/)
> 
>  **beskad** \- a traditional mandalorian saber. kad simply means saber. in an A/B/O universe, i imagined that, though mando'a is not a gendered language, they would have picked up things to call alphas and omegas at the very least. kad is what they'd call an alpha, beskad is what you'd call an alpha you have high respect for, a _good_ alpha  
>  **dalab** \- a sheathe, scabbard. considering this culture, i thought it would make sense to consider alphas and omegas two parts of a whole weapon, so i've decided this is what you'd call an omega in mando'a.  
>  **riduur** \- partner, spouse, or in this world: mate  
>  **'lek/elek** \- yeah/yes  
>  **al nu'ni briikase ti ibic** \- but i am not happy with it  
>  **ni cuy'hettyc** \- i am burning  
>  **gar klesi...jatne** \- you smell...the best  
>  **cui ogir'olar** \- it is what it is/it's irrelevant  
>  **vor'e** \- thanks  
>  **mesh'la** \- beautiful  
>  **cyar'ika** \- darling, beloved, sweetheart  
>  **gedet'ye** \- please  
>  **udesii** \- “calm down” or “take it easy”  
>  **liniba gar** \- need you  
>  **gedet'ye, beskad, k'iviin'yc** \- please, alpha, hurry  
>  **ori** \- big, extreme, very (er.. usually this is used as a prefix to indicate intensity - very good, special, etc, but i really could NOT resist lmao)  
>  **ni shi'liniba gar** \- i only need you  
>  **k'sibuc bic, dalab** \- say it, omega  
>  **k'nariti ik'aad lo'ni** \- put pups in me  
>  **ni gedeti! gedet'ye, beskad, k'dinui ade! ni copaani, ni copaani-!** \- i'm begging! please, alpha, give me children! i want, i want-!  
>  **gar lis'gana an** \- you can have it all (i was truly making some language allowances here lol)  
>  **mar'e** \- at last (said as an expression of relief)  
>  **jate beskad** \- good alpha  
>  **tion tigaanu ni?** \- will you touch me?  
>  **ori'jate, dalab** \- very good, omega  
> 


End file.
